Chapter 51

The One in the Game

People rushed about, some moved the tables, others cried out in shock. But that dreadful sound of a body colliding with the pillar never came.

Moments later, the maidservants hurriedly lit the candelabras, and the hall was illuminated once again.

Everyone, still trembling in fear, looked over to see Xu Kouyue sitting disheveled on the ground beside the pillar, her hair unkempt but covered by an outer robe.

No one had seen exactly what had happened in that instant.

Lady Gantang, overcome with emotion, staggered forward, embracing Xu Kouyue as she broke down into sobs.

Wanyan Jun’s face darkened, just as he was about to vent his anger, Xie Queshan furrowed his brows and said, “Lord Wanyan, you were merely joking. Second Sister is being overly dramatic—it’s killing the mood. You should take the princess to change her clothes.”

Lady Gantang clung to Xu Kouyue and hurriedly fled as if escaping.

Xie Queshan nonchalantly picked up his wine cup and turned to Wanyan Jun, saying in a hearty tone, “Lord Wanyan, pay no mind to the womenfolk. Let us continue drinking. Congratulations on securing Mr. Song’s allegiance—now the shipbuilding matter is settled.”

Wanyan Jun’s grim expression quickly lifted. Following Xie Queshan’s lead, he laughed heartily, raising his wine cup. “Mr. Song, join us!”

Song Muchuan, however, still refused to touch his wine.

“Mr. Song?”

Song Muchuan rose with a wooden expression, cupped his hands, and said, “This humble servant is unfit for heavy drinking. I must return to organize my books and drawings to contribute to Lord Wanyan’s great endeavor. I shall take my leave.”

His gaze fell briefly on the untouched bowl of sweet soup on the table, then shifted to Xie Queshan, giving him a long, penetrating look. To others, it appeared as an accusing glare, as though he resented Xie Queshan for putting him in such a predicament as the host of the evening.

But that one look made Xie Queshan’s hand tighten around his wine cup.

Wanyan Jun made no effort to stop Song Muchuan, only motioning for two attendants to follow him under the pretext of “escorting” him.

Xie Queshan swirled his wine cup before lifting it to his lips, the rim of the vessel concealing the deep contemplation on his face.

If Song Muchuan hadn’t given him that look, Xie Queshan might not have pieced together how today’s events had spiraled to this point so quickly.

Though Song Muchuan had performed flawlessly—projecting a timid and powerless scholar caught in an impossible situation—it was precisely this calculated perfection that tipped Xie Queshan off: Song Muchuan was acting.

Song Muchuan was playing the role of a weak and reluctant intellectual masterfully. Under such circumstances, his agreement to work for the Qi people seemed all the more genuine—more believable than if he had offered his allegiance outright. No one would doubt him now.

If he truly didn’t want to take charge of the Shipbuilding Bureau, he would have found a way to refuse, no matter the cost. But now Xie Queshan realized that Song Muchuan wanted this position.

He knew his old friend too well. Despite his frail and scholarly demeanor, Song Muchuan possessed an unshakable determination once he made up his mind. Even under Wanyan Jun’s oppressive threats, if he truly didn’t want this, he would have refused—by any means necessary.

Even if it meant sacrificing his life. That was something Song Muchuan was capable of.

But instead of choosing that path, he endured this humiliation and continued to move forward in this dangerous game. Unless… Song Muchuan had intentionally walked into the trap, like prey seeking the hunter.

Xie Queshan’s gaze darkened.

Song Muchuan was resolute in entering the game. He had long since transformed, aiming for something far greater. Yet when faced with an old friend like Xie Queshan, his guard slipped, leaving him exposed.

Xie Queshan downed the wine in his cup. A sharp pain shot through his head, making him frown. He raised a hand to massage his temples, and as his eyes swept the room unintentionally, they landed on a young girl by the window.

She leaned forward to close the window, discreetly removing the sleeve arrow nailed to the window frame and tucking it back into her sleeve. When she glanced back surreptitiously, her eyes locked directly with his.

Her gaze darkened instantly, filled with confusion and resentment. But she quickly masked her emotions, returning to her seat as though nothing had happened.

Even she believed he had conspired with the Qi people to force Song Muchuan into submission.

Well, that wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

________________________________________

In the inner chamber, Lady Gantang gently lifted Xu Kouyue’s skirts. The delicate skin of her thin ankles was already marred by a circle of bloody wounds from the coarse iron chain.

How carefree and spirited this girl once was—running across the glazed tiles of the imperial city, her skirts fluttering like kites in the wind, soaring behind her footsteps.

Lady Gantang’s heart ached terribly as she called out, “Yao Yao…”

Hearing this familiar yet distant name, a trace of true sorrow finally flickered across Xu Kouyue’s blank and hollow face.

Lady Gantang wanted to apply medicine to her wounds.

“Maternal Aunt…” Tears streamed down Xu Kouyue’s face as she raised her hands to stop her. “He doesn’t allow me to treat my wounds. If he sees this…”

Lady Gantang froze, her expression shifting from shock to grief to fury. A thousand words rushed to her lips, but none came out.

She cupped Xu Kouyue’s face, murmuring, “Yao Yao, don’t be afraid.”

But she was powerless. How could she make her stop being afraid? She didn’t dare meet Xu Kouyue’s gaze again, only resting her forehead against hers in sorrow, as though trying to convey some small shred of strength.

“I will find a way to kill that beast and get you out of here. Just wait for me, alright?”

Xu Kouyue, her heart already deadened, replied, “Aunt, don’t throw yourself against a stone wall. My life is already like this. I am even… lucky.”

At this, her voice broke again.

Lady Gantang understood all too well what she meant by “lucky.” Half the royal family had been wiped out—those who weren’t dead were captives, living in endless misery. Xu Kouyue, at least, had been brought to Lidu Prefecture. At least she had returned to her homeland, at least she was clothed and fed…

“As long as you all are safe, I have no other wishes.”

“It’s not time to give up yet!”

Lady Gantang’s resolute tone startled Xu Kouyue into looking up.

“Stay alive.”

Xu Kouyue murmured softly, “Just now, Xie… Xie Queshan said something similar to me.”

There was movement, people shifting tables, exclamations of shock—but the expected, bone-crushing sound of someone ramming into a pillar never came.

Moments later, the maids hurriedly lit the candelabras, and the hall was restored to brightness.

Everyone stared, their breath catching. Sitting disheveled on the ground next to the pillar, her hair in disarray but now cloaked in an outer robe, was Xu Kouyue.

Whatever had just happened in that split second, no one had seen it clearly.

Lady Gantang forgot all decorum, stumbling forward to embrace Xu Kouyue, sobbing uncontrollably.

Wanyan Jun’s face darkened, and just as he was about to erupt in fury, Xie Queshan frowned and intervened, “Master Wanyan, it was just a jest. Second Sister here is taking it too seriously, crying like this and ruining the mood. Why don’t you take the imperial princess to change her clothes?”

Lady Gantang clung to Xu Kouyue and hastily left, almost fleeing.

Xie Queshan raised his wine cup nonchalantly and loudly congratulated Wanyan Jun, “Master Wanyan, ignore these womenfolk. Let’s continue drinking! Congratulations on securing Mr. Song under your command. With him overseeing shipbuilding, success is assured!”

Wanyan Jun’s expression cleared, and he laughed heartily, raising his cup. “Mr. Song, shall we drink together?”

But Song Muchuan still refused to touch his wine.

“Mr. Song?”

Song Muchuan stood, his face impassive. He bowed and said, “This humble servant cannot hold his liquor. There are books and diagrams awaiting review tonight to ensure that I can contribute to your great cause, Master Wanyan. I must take my leave.”

His gaze fell to the untouched bowl of sweet custard at the table’s edge before briefly locking eyes with Xie Queshan. To the others, it appeared to be a look of resentment, as if accusing the host of forcing him into such an impossible situation.

But to Xie Queshan, that look tightened his grip on his wine cup.

Had it not been for that one glance, Xie Queshan might not have pieced everything together so quickly.

Song Muchuan had played his role flawlessly, his frailty as a scholar entirely convincing. But precisely because he was so thorough, Xie Queshan realized—Song Muchuan was acting. The image of the meek, submissive intellectual had been performed to perfection. Only under such conditions could his agreement to serve the Qiren appear believable, more so than if he had voluntarily defected. No one would doubt his sincerity.

If Song Muchuan truly had no intention of accepting the role of shipwright, he would have found a way to refuse—even under Wanyan Jun’s pressure. A man like him could even declare his intentions by choosing death.

But he hadn’t. Instead, he endured humiliation and walked into the lion’s den willingly. Unless… he had deliberately chosen to enter the trap, with the hunter’s resolve.

Xie Queshan’s gaze grew cold.

Song Muchuan had made up his mind to enter this game. He had undergone a complete transformation and was now pursuing something far greater. Yet, faced with an old friend, he had momentarily lost his footing and shown his vulnerability.

Draining his cup, Xie Queshan winced at the sudden sharp pain stabbing through his temple. He rubbed his forehead, his eyes drifting to the girl by the window.

She leaned forward to close the window, quietly removing the sleeve-arrow nailed to the frame and tucking it back into her sleeve. As she turned her head, her eyes met Xie Queshan’s directly.

Her expression darkened instantly, tinged with confusion and resentment. But in the next moment, she masked her emotions, returning to her seat as if nothing had happened.

Clearly, even she believed that he had conspired with the Qiren to force Song Muchuan into submission.

Well, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to let her think so.

________________________________________

In the inner chamber, Lady Gantang tenderly lifted Xu Kouyue’s skirt. Her frail ankle bore the scars of the heavy iron chain that had chafed her skin raw.

This had once been such a vibrant girl, leaping across the glazed rooftops of the imperial palace, her dress fluttering like a kite dancing in the wind.

Lady Gantang’s heart ached as she called softly, “Yaoyao…”

That familiar yet distant name brought a faint flicker of anguish to Xu Kouyue’s otherwise vacant expression.

Lady Gantang reached for some ointment to treat the wounds on Xu Kouyue’s ankles.

“Matron…” Tears spilled like broken beads from Xu Kouyue’s eyes as she lifted her hand to stop her. “He forbids me from applying medicine. If he sees…”

Lady Gantang froze, her face shifting from shock to heartbreak to fury. A thousand words churned in her throat, but all she could do was silently hold Xu Kouyue’s face and murmur, “Yaoyao, don’t be afraid.”

But what could she possibly do to make her not afraid? She lowered her forehead to rest against Xu Kouyue’s, trying to offer what little strength she could.

“I’ll find a way to kill that monster and get you out of here. Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Xu Kouyue’s voice was a whisper, full of despair: “Matron, don’t throw an egg against a stone. This is my life now. In fact, I’m lucky…”

Her words trailed off, choked by sobs.

Lady Gantang understood what she meant by “lucky.” So many of the imperial family were either dead or imprisoned, living lives darker than night. At least Xu Kouyue had been brought back to Lidu Prefecture, back to her homeland, and had enough food and clothing…

“So long as you all are safe, I have no other wishes.”

“We’re not at the point of giving up yet!”

Lady Gantang’s resolute words startled Xu Kouyue into silence.

“Stay alive.”

Xu Kouyue murmured, “Earlier, Xie… Xie Queshan also told me something similar.”

Lady Gantang froze.

“What exactly happened earlier?”

In the darkness, when Xu Kouyue had resolutely thrown herself toward the pillar, she had expected to feel the shattering pain of a head-on collision. Instead, she was caught in a warm embrace.

The person had quickly draped her with a robe and whispered two words in her ear amidst the surrounding chaos: “Stay alive.”

She recognized the voice—it was Xie Queshan’s.

“I thought… given his status now, he’d hold a grudge and take the opportunity to kick me while I’m down.”

Lady Gantang knew of the history between Xu Kouyue and Xie Queshan. Though they had never met before, there had been a small but consequential grievance.

Back when Xie Queshan first passed the provincial exams, he should have been eligible for the imperial exams the following year. But Xu Kouyue had come across his essay by chance.

At the time, she was a celebrated young scholar, a pupil of one of the court’s most esteemed Confucians, and her reputation for literary talent was renowned throughout the capital. Though she admired Xie Queshan’s work initially, upon learning he had severed ties with his family, she deemed him a traitor to Confucian principles. Concluding that he was talented but immoral, she ordered his name removed from the list of candidates, barring him from sitting for the exam.

Her interference had forced the proud young scholar to wait another three years. It wasn’t until Lady Gantang and Song Muchuan’s family intervened that he had another chance. But by then, Xie Queshan had fled far away, even before his results were released.

After his defection, Xu Kouyue would occasionally hear his name mentioned, fueling her hatred for him as a traitor. She was convinced her judgment back then had been entirely correct.

In her arrogant, sheltered youth, she had no concept of mercy.

Now, facing Xie Queshan, with their fortunes reversed, she feared him deeply. The grudge from their past hung over her like a sword, threatening to make her already dire circumstances even worse.

But to her surprise, the man she had long seen as ruthless and unscrupulous had stepped in to save her, sparing her a shred of dignity.

“But I didn’t expect that the man who I thought defied traditional morality, who was ruthless and heartless in my mind, would save me and grant me a sliver of dignity.”

Lady Gantang sighed deeply, her expression complex. “No matter what, the blood of the Xie family still flows in him,” she said. “But oftentimes, even I can’t quite see through him. Sometimes I get the illusion… that the third brother is still the same third brother.”

“He’s held in very high regard in Daqi…” Xu Kouyue poured cold water on the hopeful tone, her voice bitter. “Wanyan Jun trusts him deeply. Both of them are under the faction of Daqi’s prime minister, Han Xianwang.”

Lady Gantang’s sigh grew heavier, the internal strife and external threats weighing on her visibly. It was hard to see a glimmer of hope in such circumstances.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Honored Imperial Princess, the banquet has ended, and Master Wanyan is ready to return to the estate.”

Xu Kouyue’s eyes filled once again with that sense of despair, like a caged bird about to return to its confines. She dared not delay any longer and immediately stood up.

“Matron, don’t worry about me,” she whispered softly.

No matter whether she lived or died, her only wish was for those who were free to live their lives well. That was her greatest hope now.

________________________________________

The wind chimes hung on the four corners of the carriage swayed as the horses galloped, their sounds eerily echoing through the desolate night streets, like some phantom melody from the underworld.

Inside the carriage, Wanyan Jun and Xu Kouyue sat together. She curled herself into the furthest corner she could manage.

Wanyan Jun was in an exceptionally good mood, showing no sign of wanting to chastise her. Instead, he wore a faint, lazy smile as he casually pulled her into his embrace.

With a tone that sounded gentle but carried an edge, he asked, “What did your aunt tell you?”

Xu Kouyue tensed and instinctively shrank back, shaking her head without saying a word.

Wanyan Jun crouched before her and lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing her injured ankle.

Seeing that the wounds had not been treated, a satisfied smile crept across his lips.

“Good girl.”

The normally imperious Wanyan Jun seemed almost patient as he crouched in front of her, pulling out a small jar of ointment from his sleeve. Carefully and deliberately, he began to apply medicine to her wounds.

“You silly thing. Tonight was just a bit of theater. Why did you have to take it so seriously?”

Xu Kouyue remained silent, her head lowered, unable to gauge his true temperament. At times he was cruel and violent; other times, he was strangely tender, even apologizing to her on occasion.

“Are you upset?” His voice softened. “How about I call Zhang Zhichun to keep you company?”

At the mention of that name, Xu Kouyue’s pupils dilated in shock, and her entire body tensed as if she had suffered a deep humiliation.

Wanyan Jun’s words carried a mocking undertone, sharp and cutting: “He’s very obedient now, like a dog I’ve raised.”

“I don’t want to see him!” For the first time, Xu Kouyue displayed such intense emotion.

Zhang Zhichun—her husband. Or rather, her former husband, back in Yuzhao before it fell.

After they were captured and brought to Daqi, all notions of marital bonds and familial ethics were trampled beneath the boots of their captors. The once-noble imperial family was stripped of all dignity, left without even a shred of decency to cover themselves.

“Oh? Haven’t you been thinking about him every day?”

“I… I haven’t…” Xu Kouyue stammered, trembling, unable to string together a coherent response.

Wanyan Jun’s tone darkened as he rose, his towering figure casting a shadow that enveloped her.

Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look directly at him. “Always wearing that miserable expression. No good attitude toward me, no matter what I do. If it’s not him you’re thinking about, then what?”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed down on hers, devouring her like a tempest.

The carriage jolted to a stop outside the mansion gates, but neither of its occupants emerged. The curtains of the carriage swayed lightly, and from within came the broken sobs of a woman.

The guards, accustomed to such scenes, kept their heads bowed and stood silently outside the carriage, waiting.

It was a long while before Wanyan Jun finally emerged, fastening his belt as he stepped down from the carriage. Without looking back, he strode toward the mansion, his figure vanishing behind the screen wall in the courtyard.

Only after his shadow disappeared did a trembling voice emerge from the carriage: “Please… bring me a garment… I beg you.”